


Tricky's

by Apetslife



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apetslife/pseuds/Apetslife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story subtitled "Queer as Sync."  Yep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tricky's

Part One: JOEY

It's maybe not some big swanky club with laser lights and floor shows and fifteen bars serving Cosmos, but it has a balcony with couches and a great dj, and really, that's all Joey can ask for on a Saturday night. It's also the only gay club within stumbling-home-drunk distance of his apartment, and so he figures he should really take what he can get and be grateful. At least the beer's cold, he thinks, as he tips the bottle back and drains it dry.

"This place sucks." Chris is moody tonight, peeling the label off his own beer with obsessively restless fingers, unable to sit still on the couch. Joey watches him patiently, only occasionally distracted by a lovely shirtless young thing wandering by. "It SUCKS, Joey. Why can't we fucking go downtown? We live in fucking New York City, and we keep coming back to this shithole every night." He shoves messy dreadlocks out of his face and bares his teeth at Joey, scowling in the way he thinks is scary. "I've fucked everyone here already. Can't we go somewhere else?"

"You have not." Lance is lounging against the balcony railing, also watching Chris, low southern drawl incongruous here. "I bet you haven't fucked...." He glances around at the sitting, drinking, dancing crowd. "Him." His glass--no beer for Lance, he thinks it's unrefined--indicates a tall boy in leather pants, dancing hard not twenty feet away.

"Have so." Chris looks smug, and strokes his goatee. "Three weeks ago, he sucks like a pro but doesn't bottom."

"Really?" Joey looks over with more interest. It's so hard to find a good top these days, especially looking the way he does. Everyone expects him to hold them down and growl. It's very frustrating.

"Yeah, but don't get too excited, Fatone. His weenie is very teeny." Chris snatches Lance's drink straw and holds it up as illustration.

"Fucker. Give that back." Lance grabs it back, stares at it disgustedly, and drops it. "Nice. Your fucking fingers all over it, and god knows where those hands have been."

"We all know," Joey sighs, settling back into the couch and wishing he had another beer. "Since he never shuts up about it."

"Well, if we could get out of here and go somewhere *interesting*, maybe my stories wouldn't be so damn boring. Ever think of that, Lance? And maybe then you could finally get laid. Miracles happen, downtown, or so I'm told." Chris is bouncing on the balls of his feet, and Joey grins. Chris is short and soft and isn't really pretty, not in the way that gets a lot of looks here, but he's intense, and fucking funny, and that gets him a long way. Especially when he's wearing the black. Joey approves.

Lance bumps a hip into Chris, knocking him a step sideways, and scowls. "Just because I don't slut it up like you two. I get laid plenty, you know. C, help me out."

JC, curled over his notebook beside Joey, looks up with vague eyes. "What?"

"Never mind," Lance sighs, turning back to look over the dancing crowd below.

It's really a mystery why Lance doesn't get picked up more often. He's gorgeous, with smooth perfect skin and big green eyes and the prettiest hands Joey's ever seen. He dresses okay, he's probably got the best body of anyone Joey knows, and from this angle, he can see Lance's finest asset, nicely accentuated by the way he's got his foot up on the railing. He can't imagine why people turn Lance down, unless screwing an accountant has somehow become taboo, and no one's told him.

"Him." Lance is pointing out another boy down on the dancefloor, and Chris shakes his head and snorts and goes into a long complicated story about lost keys and strange birthmarks and his missing Discman. Joey tunes him out, and leans against JC's shoulder.

"Hey, C. Having fun?" JC nods distractedly and chews the end of his pen, never taking his eyes off the page. He's a poet, or he's trying to be, and it makes him a little hard to talk to, sometimes. Joey's used to it by now. "Want a beer? Drink? Joint?" He holds up the smoke in question, hoping JC will join him. JC stoned is a source of endless amusement for all, and also tends to take off his clothes on the dance floor. Joey considers smoking JC up to be his own little way of giving back to the community.

"No, no." JC shakes his head, curls flopping wildly. "I'm flowing, man, I'm, yeah. It's good." He favors Joey with a smile, then bends back over his knees. Joey's about to argue, when Chris's hissed breath, audible even over the dance beat, snaps his head back up.

"Holy shit!" He's almost rigid in disbelief, staring past Lance to the head of the stairs. Lance is staring too, drink forgotten in his loose hand, and Joey follows their line of sight. "Holy fuck, it's two lost lambs," Chris adds, and Joey wishes he would just shut up and let him gaze in uninterrupted bliss.

Boys like this aren't supposed to come into Tricky's. They should be at Twilo or Ohm or Vanity or one of the other fancy places downtown that Joey can't afford to go to, they should be on the arm of some movie star or supermodel; hell, they should *be* the movie stars or supermodels.

"Tall," Lance breathes, and Joey nods blindly. Tall and blond, blond, blond, standing shoulder to shoulder and taking up more space than they really should, looking very young and a little lost, despite the black mesh one's wearing, and the sheen of glitter on the camouflage tank top the other has on. Joey's eyes are bouncing back and forth like he's watching a tennis match. Curly bronze hair or straight cornsilk pale? Pouting sweet mouth or wide sultry red? Lean like a greyhound or broad solid strength? Fuck if he can make up his mind, and he kind of hopes they'll just stand there all night, so he can look at them both.

"Someone," Chris announces grandly, startling Joey out of his fantasy, "should go over and talk to those poor boys. Look at them, all alone and drinkless and not knowing anyone. Bass, come with me." He strides off confidently, but Lance yanks his hand back.

"Too rich for my blood," he mutters, though he hasn't taken his eyes off them. "Plus, they're, what, eighteen, tops? I leave the pedophilia to you, Chris."

"Oh, fuck off, he was seventeen and legal," Chris counters, scowling at Lance. "And don't be such an insecure bitch. Just think of the pain they must be enduring. So hot no one will talk to them. Just drool over them from afar, like you two freaks. They'll be so grateful to see me, I bet they'll offer me a blowjob right then and there."

"Both of them?" Lance smirks at him, and stays firmly planted in his spot. "Doubt it, Chris, but I'll be cheering for you." He raises his glass in ironic salute. "Go get 'em, tiger."

"Coward," Chris accuses, and Lance nods placidly.

"You have to tell me if they're natural blonds," he calls sweetly after Chris, as he stomps away. "These are important details, Christopher!"

"Fuck off!" Chris flings over his shoulder, and Joey chews a thumbnail as Chris approaches the pair. He's got that cocky swagger, that "I'll fuck you till you can't walk and make you love every minute of it" cant to his hips, and Joey starts thinking that this might actually work. He wonders if he can talk Chris into videotaping it, if it does.

"We shoulda sent JC with him," Lance muses, watching. "He's the only thing in here as pretty as them. C, you picking up tonight?"

"What?" JC looks up again, then blinks, and nods. "Yeah, man, I got booted out of my place this afternoon. Gotta trick home tonight."

"Jayce, you can stay with me." Joey actually looks away from Chris, concerned. "You know me and Chris'll always let you stay."

"Thank you, sweetie." JC smiles at him softly, and pats his arm. He's got a pen mark down his cheek. "I'll be okay. Y'all step on me when I stay over."

"It's small," Joey apologizes, shrugging. "But still, if something doesn't work out, you let me know." Whenever JC loses his place--which is fairly often, he never makes rent--Joey worries. JC is special, and needs looking after.

"I will," JC assures him, glancing back at his page as Lance looks apologetic. Lance has cats and a ferret, and they give JC hives.

"Aren't you gonna watch this, C?" Lance has gone back to Chris On A Mission, and Joey looks, and Curly Boy is laughing hard at something Chris is saying. Joey thinks it's unfair that his smile is white and wide and perfect like sunshine. He should have bad teeth or something.

"I think he's actually doing it," Joey breathes, as Chris lays a hand on Curly's arm, his friend looking on with a smirk. "He's gonna get that boy in bed. Or at least in the back room. Fuck."

"Fuck," Lance repeats, sounding a little panicked. "He's...wake JC up, he's bringing them over here."

"JC." Joey elbows him. They'll need backup for this. Joey gets laid a lot, but they're mostly second-tier guys, guys like him who are a little too short or a little too heavy or a little too desperate, and he gets tongue tied around the beauties. JC doesn't get tongue tied ever, though what comes out of his mouth is often strange and inappropriate. Lance looks like a deer in headlights. Chris just looks smug.

"Boys," he says loudly, towing his new friends behind him like a little dark tugboat with two large blond ships. "Boys, be nice and gentle, now, we've got two Tricky virgins here. This is Justin," he pats the shoulder of Curly, who grins at them all, "and Nick." Nick's nod is a little less friendly. "They just moved to the neighborhood, they're freshmen. Roommates. Isn't that sweet?"

"Sweet," Joey agrees, struggling out of the depths of the couch and wishing desperately for a bit more grace. He finally staggers to his feet, and offers his hand to Nick. Nick's at least an inch taller than he is, and isn't that nice? "Hey, I'm Joey. Pleased to meet you." He flushes a little. Pleased to meet you?

"Likewise," Nick drawls, shaking his hand. Up close he's even more perfect, messy blond spikes of hair falling into bright blue eyes, long pale neck and that perfect red mouth. He's even got tattoos. Joey swallows hard, and lets go of his hand, and steps back. Chris goes merrily on, ignoring them.

"On the couch we have JC, he's a poet, which means he's homeless a lot, and it's a good thing he's so pretty. Don't try to talk to him, it'll just confuse you. And this is Lance, our resident accountant. He's not actually as boring as you'd think." Chris claps his hands, as Lance grimaces at him. "There, good. Mingle. My friends are your friends, my club is your club, yada yada yada." Joey thinks wryly that Chris's mood has improved remarkably.

"So, um." Justin's eyes are darting between them, and he's still smiling, like he's not sure what to do. "Y'all come here often?" He flushes a bit. He's just too cute for words.

"It's the only place around here," Joey nods, tugging the hem of his shirt down a little selfconsciously. "Unless you want to make the trek downtown, and pay out the ass. Ah, not literally. It's not such a bad place."

"No, no," Justin breaks in eagerly, looking around with wide eyes. "It's a really cool place. Ah, with the guys dancing on those things, and everything. Do they do that every night?"

"You bet. Welcome to the wonderful world of gay clubs." Chris nudges Lance, and looks at them brightly. "I'm going to the bar. Anyone want?"

"Quit being a complete dork." Joey catches Nick's mutter to Justin, and Justin's eye-roll and "like you've ever been to one either," in return. He grins. Maybe they're not a couple after all.

"Me," he nods at Chris, and Lance does, and Justin and Nick are agreeing enthusiastically. Chris eyes them narrowly for a moment, then shrugs.

"Oh, me!" JC finally looks up, and waves his hand in the air. "Something not a beer, please, Chris." He stares at the two newcomers, then smiles and waves again. "Hi. I'm JC."

"I told them, C," Chris sighs, then grabs Joey. "You're helping me carry drinks. Come on." He tows Joey off, who goes willingly.

"Holy shit, they're babies!" He says more quietly when they're a decent distance away. "Like, freshmen."

"Lance warned you, dude." Joey looks back. "Fucking gorgeous, though. Are they, that Justin kid seems kinda into you. You in there?"

"He's a puppydog," Chris declares, bellying up to the bar. "Cute as fuck, but if I brought him home he'd want to stay."

"So?" Joey can think of worse things. Chris shakes his head, eyes huge and black under the blue light of the bar.

"I don't need a kid to take care of, Joey. Another kid."

"Dude, your sisters don't count as your *kids*. And he's legal!"

"Barely. Still, though. He's awesome. Plays ball for the school, and everything." Chris looks a little wistful.

"Why, Chris. It's your lucky day! You can finally fuck the prom king!" Joey elbows him, and Chris laughs.

"Yeah, my dream. Whatever. He'd probably be a good lay, anyway, those nice long legs. Mmmm, mmmm." Chris licks his lips, and Joey groans.

"Dirty."

"You know it." He finally gets the bartender's attention, and rattles off the drink orders. Joey turns and backs up to the bar, propped on his elbows. It looks like Lance has finally remembered how to talk, he's nodding at Justin. JC is talking animatedly to Nick, hands fluttering, and Joey giggles, because Nick's looking a little stunned.

"I think JC's quoting his poetry at Nick," Joey mentions idly to Chris, who spins around to check.

"God. Brave boy, he hasn't made a break for it yet. Or maybe he's captivated by those baby blues." Chris hands Joey two drinks and a beer, and takes the others himself. Joey nods and sighs. The sad thing is, JC doesn't even realize how easy it is for him to get boys. He just smiles and they fall. JC's even fucked straight guys. Joey kisses his chances with Nick goodbye.

"Don't despair, Joe." Chris knows him too well. "He was checking you out. Seriously."

"Yeah, when I was falling all over the place getting off the couch? Or maybe when I was killing him with my smooth one-liners?" Joey snorts. "Sure he was. Nah, guys like that aren't for me. I'll leave him to JC."

"Jesus, Joey, drama queen much? Oh, poor me!" Chris's light voice goes even higher and takes on a quaver, and he pauses to drape a wrist dramatically over his brow. "I am unworthy, so I shan't even try. I am ugly, I am worthless, I will never fuck the pretty twink!" He starts walking again, dropping his voice back to normal. "Knock that shit off."

"Shut up," Joey orders, knowing he sounds sullen. "I never bitch like that. And my voice ain't that high anyway."

"Is so." Chris grins at him.

"Is *not*," Joey insists, and almost walks into Justin.

"Oh, hey, let me take that for you." Justin's big eager hands practically snatch the bottle from Joey, and Joey chuckles as he slides back into the circle, handing Nick his drink.

"Thanks, man." Nick's looking at him sideways, JC's still in full cry, and Joey takes pity.

"JC. Baby, sweetheart, honeycakes? C?" JC loves being called pet names, he thinks they're nice. Joey obliges him, mostly when he wants JC's attention.

"Yes?" He breaks off, mid-stanza, and turns big expectant eyes on Joey.

"Isn't that the dancer you were looking at last week?" Joey points him out, and JC looks instantly, lighting up with pleasure.

"Oh yeah! He's back! He's dreamy, don't you think? I've gotta..." he waves his hand vaguely at the dancefloor.

"Go, baby. Fly away, we'll either be here or there." Chris smiles gently, shooing him away.

JC trots off towards the stairs, sequins flashing and little notebook sticking out of the back pocket of his vinyl pants.

"Only JC," Lance says, raising his glass in salute. "Guess he's got a place to stay tonight. Good for him."

"He doesn't have a house?" Justin peers down, trying to locate JC in the swirling mass of shirtless men. His jaw drops, and he leans further over the railing, up on his tiptoes. Chris grins at Lance, but Lance is too busy cutting his eyes sideways at the way Justin's jeans pull tight over his ass to grin back.

"Sometimes," Lance explains, sipping his drink and still looking. "Sometimes not. He's JC, though, he always has a place to sleep."

"What, like a hooker or something?" Nick's voice is cool and amused, and Joey spins on him, already growling.

"No, not like a hooker," Chris jumps in, before Joey can say something that'll probably get him smacked. Chris is glaring, too, in that way he has that's actually more scary than all of Joey's inches and weight; chin down, eyes level and dark. It's pretty hot, actually, but Nick just drops his eyes with an unhappy twist to his mouth. "You'd better smart up, kid. Tricking home's a lot different than hooking."

"Dude!" Justin's joyful yelp breaks the uncomfortable tension. "They're fucking *fucking* out there! Right there in front of everyone!" If Joey maybe bumps Nick a little harder than he needs to in the rush to the rail, he figures no one will ever know. Plus, he gets to discover that Nick is wearing Polo, and smells fantastic.

JC's managed to get up on the podium, only God and he know how, and he's lost his shirt and the first two buttons on his pants, and he's riding the thigh of a slim boy with dark hair and more tattoos than Joey's ever seen on one person. He's got a policeman's hat and aviators on, but not much else, and watching JC twist around him like a very friendly snake is making Joey's mouth go dry.

"Is that the guy?" Lance's deep rumble is only vaguely interested, and Joey knows he's still looking at Justin. "Nice tattoos."

"He was wearing a shirt last time, I think." Joey sighs enviously. The guy's *flexible* and fuck can he dance, and he and JC are putting on quite the show. Joey spares a moment to imagine the two of them naked, swallows, and turns away.

Justin's still leaning over the edge, as excited as a kid in a candy shop. Nick's scanning the dance floor casually, a hip cocked against the railing. Lance is watching Justin. Chris is watching Justin. Nick's suddenly watching Joey.

"What?" Joey does a quick spot-check of himself. Did he spill his drink on himself again, or something?

"Nothing, man." Nick smirks at him again, a sideways twist of his mouth that Joey can't help but admire. "Why aren't y'all out there dancing?"

"We were, but even the dancing queens need a break sometimes. Plus, JC was struck by the bolt of inspiration, and he just had to get the idea down." Joey grins fondly at the thought.

"So, you and him...you're not a thing?" Nick's voice is casual, but he's watching Joey closely.

"Nope, man, no way. Not us. Though you might hafta pry him off the tattoo guy with a crowbar, at this point." Joey shakes his head. "Our little JC has himself a crush, I think. Better wait till he gets over it."

"JC's a little too artistic for me," Nick comments idly, stepping closer to Joey. "If I wanna fuck a poet, I'll go cruise the English department."

"I doubt the English department has too many people who look like JC," Joey replies, a little breathless suddenly. Nick is very close. "If they do, let me know, I'll enroll."

"Too thin." Nick shrugs, and now Joey can't mistake the look. He's getting cruised by the best looking guy in the place. Last time he'd checked his calendar, it wasn't Christmas or his birthday, so he just sends up a little thanks to the patron saint of gay men, and smiles.

"Yeah?" He's lost his smoothness, what he had of it. The pretty ones always do this to him. Maybe Nick won't notice.

"Yeah." Nick's smirking still. He noticed.

"Ah, okay." He's still smiling, but he turns away, unwilling to be a bigger dork than he already is.

"Hey." A light touch on his shoulder turns him back. "What the hell? I ain't been blown off like that in...ever." Nick's pouting and pissy and insulted, and Joey has to chuckle.

"Don't worry, happens to the best of us. Ah, not blowin' you off, though. I was just checking on JC." He gestures to the dance floor in confirmation, and Nick looks, and winces.

"Oh, ouch. That's gotta hurt." Joey looks for real.

JC has his hand on the guy's arm, and is speaking intently, intense, leaning in. The guy's not having any of it, though, leaning away and shaking his head, and he actually pulls away hard enough to make JC stumble back, shock in every line of his body.

"Holy shit." Joey can't believe it. "Chris, man, hey, check out the impos-"

Chris has Justin backed up against the railing, and despite the height difference, he's clearly in control of the situation. Justin's hands are skating over his shoulders uncertainly, pulling and scrabbling, but Chris's palms are firm and still on Justin's hips, and he's sucking Justin's tongue right out of his mouth. Joey shakes his head. So much for Chris's good intentions.

Lance is nowhere to be seen.

"Motherfuck." Nick's right there, against his back, speaking into his ear. "Look at that. Little Timberlake, all growed up and ready to play. And here I thought he was a prude." His tone is admiring, but Joey's too distracted by warm breath on the side of his neck. Then there's a tongue, and Joey's not thinking at all.

"I bet you like to be held down when you're fucked," purring out in that deceptively light voice, and Joey can't hide his shiver. He tips his head back, and Nick's hands are on his belly and groping down the front of his zipper, and suddenly all he can focus on is that he didn't remember to make his bed.

"Maybe," he answers, proud that it comes out evenly. "You wanna find out?"

"Maybe," Nick teases, licking his neck again. Joey's watching Chris and Justin, and Justin's sleek little hips are twitching to the bass even as Chris holds him, and Nick's sucking right below his ear. This night has definitely taken a turn for the better. Except...JC...

"Hold that thought." He steps and turns, pulling away from those tempting hands. "I gotta set Lance on JC, then we can go. And see what 'maybe' means." He can feel the heat in his cheeks, and Nick lounges back against the wall like a big, blond cat, and Lance had better be pretty fucking close by.

He's at the bar, and Joey collars him instantly. "Lance. Lance. Dude, you gotta step up tonight."

"I beg your fucking pardon?" Lance has the most sarcastic eyebrows of anyone Joey's ever met.

"I'm going home with Nick, I think Chris is heading back with Justin, JC got shot down. You've gotta-"

"Wait, what?" The eyebrows have gone from sarcastic to disbelieving, and if Lance was holding a drink, Joey would've expected him to drop it. "JC got shot down? JC never gets shot down. Ever."

"No shit, but I dunno, maybe tattoo guy only likes burly blonds or something." Joey shrugs impatiently. Nick's waiting. "Anyway, can you make sure he ain't sleeping on the street tonight?"

"Because I'm so clearly shit out of luck? Loserville, party of two, Chasez and Bass?" Lance flicks a cocktail olive at Joey with a scowl. "I could get lucky, you know. Plus, his allergies."

"I don't know, vaccuum or something. Get him a hotel room. Something. You ain't getting lucky, we all know this. Go comfort JC in his moment of pain." Joey shoos Lance towards the stairs. "He's down there somewhere. Be a good friend. Maybe he'll give you a blowjob out of gratitude."

Lance shudders delicately, but moves away from the bar. "Oh, ick, no. JC? No. Nowhere near this cock, thanks so much."

"I hear he's pretty good." Joey, mission accomplished, can afford to be complimentary.

"I'm sure he is. That has nothing to do with it. How would you like to get fucked by Chris?"

Joey wrinkles his nose. "No."

"See?" Lance slaps his shoulder resignedly. "Go, have fun. Call me tomorrow, I still want to know if they're natural blonds."

"You know it, babe." Joey gives him a wet smacking kiss on the cheek, which makes Lance smile for real and bat him away. "You're the best."

"From your mouth to their ears," Lance sighs, but he's on his way.

Nick hasn't moved by the time Joey gets back, but he's attracted a lot of attention. A tall guy in black has moved in, and there are at least two others prowling around. Joey scowls. He's getting laid tonight, goddamnit, he saw Nick first. He pushes right through, walks up to Nick, who's watching with that cool amusement that would be annoying if it weren't so hot.

"You ready?" He looks at Nick's mouth and licks his own lips.

"Yeah, sure." Nick pushes away from the wall, languid and sexy, and dips his fingers into Joey's waistband, pulling him along. Joey grins and follows.

The trip home is a blur, because Joey can't stop touching Nick and Nick won't stop touching Joey. It makes walking difficult, but fun, and by the time he's fumbling with his lock, Joey's swooning. He thinks he's maybe in love.

Nick's wonderfully toppy, stripping Joey quickly and wordlessly and backing him onto the bed, still fully dressed, slapping away Joey's hands as they reach for his clothes. He's got fingers fisted around Joey's cock before Joey can catch his breath, and Joey's been hard for years now, and he's arching off the unmade bed, keening deep in his throat. Nick swallows the sound, kissing with an open mouth and pushy, pointed tongue.

A few fast stripping strokes, and Joey's legs are twitching and his hands are clutching the bedspread, but Nick just bares his teeth and rolls him over. "Spread 'em," he orders, and Joey grins into the sheets and complies.

It's new and different and hot to feel Nick's shirt rasp against his spine, the buttons digging in just this side of pain, and to realize that Nick hasn't even taken his clothes off. He wonders dizzily where a kid this young got so damn confident, but that's just a passing thought once he hears the tearing of foil and feels the head of Nick's cock, slippery with lube and latex, sliding between his thighs.

"Need prep?" Nick's voice is tight and thin, and Joey's thankful that he's not as in control as he seems.

"Nope, no, come on," he pushes his hips back insistently, and gets his ass smacked for his trouble. He hums at the burn, and Nick chuckles wickedly, and does it again. "Come *on*," Joey repeats, needy and low, and Nick nips at the back of his neck and shoves inside with one blunt, unsubtle push. Joey scrambles to his knees, arching his back to ease the burn, *fuck* it's big and perfect and everything he wanted, and he's already panting.

"Fuck, fuck, I can't believe you're *taking* this," Nick gasps, and Joey just wants him to shut up.

"Fuck me, already," he hisses between clenched teeth, dropping his forehead to the bed and bracing.

"I *am,*" Nick snarls, and slams back into him, hitting him right where he needs it and turning his bones to water. Joey does so love this. He's biting the sheets to keep the embarrassing noises in, as Nick rocks him with the impact of his thrusts, pushing at him inside and out, one hand on his shoulder pulling him back whenever he moves too far away.

It's fast and hard and "I want you to feel this next *week,*" Nick says, almost conversationally except for the little hitch in his voice, and Joey lifts his head long enough to say "HA," and Nick, impossibly, picks up the pace. Then stops still, and Joey twists against him and whines helplessly, but Nick grabs his wrists and yanks them out from under him, pinning them to the bed before moving again, and Joey's orgasm slams up from the base of his spine, shockingly sudden and immediate, and he bucks and groans and Nick bites his shoulder, collapsing them down flat onto the bed.

"Fuck." Nick's voice is gravel, and Joey fights the lightheaded pleasure tingling through him long enough to tighten down; if this lasts much longer he really will have trouble walking tomorrow. He bows his back under Nick's weight and jacks his hips once, twice, and Nick's howling in his ear and doing his best to crawl inside Joey.

One more push and Nick's done, stilling, heavy and limp and overheated against Joey's back. He sighs, once, and then rolls off and away, and Joey flips to his side, wanting out of the wet spot.

"Whoa." Nick makes a face at the condom as he slips it off and ties it, dropping it off the side of the bed. He's big, even soft, and Joey's impressed. "I gotta say, wasn't expecting that."

"What?" Joey's eyes are already drooping heavily, but he has the presence of mind to shove the crumpled, wet bedspread to the foot of the bed with his feet. "Sex? I thought we were pretty clear about that."

"No, sex like *that*," Nick explains, not very helpfully. "You're just a *crazy* bottom, man." He strips out of his shirt, finally, and Joey eyes the delicious curve of the groove of his spine, and wishes he had the energy to explore. "Just gonna grab five before I get a cab, is that cool?"

"You can stay," Joey offers. He'd like Nick to stay. "I can make breakfast."

"Nah." Nick wipes his belly with the shirt, kicks out of his pants, and flops to his stomach at Joey's side. "Thanks, man, but I don't do that. Makes things awkward, you know?" He pats Joey's arm, tucks his hand under his cheek, and is asleep in moments.

Joey keeps his eyes open as long as possible, watching the blond hair that brushes Nick's cheek, watching that red mouth, watching Nick breathe.


End file.
